


You can go hotter than that

by Karaii



Category: Dark Wolverine (Comics), Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Daken experimenting with being burned alive, Dubious Consent, Johnny being played like a fiddle, Liberal use of pheromones, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 05:11:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4047316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karaii/pseuds/Karaii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daken takes advantage of the Fantastic Four's hospitality and Johnny's genuine interest in him to satisfy a curiosity he's always had: what's it like to have sex with a human torch?</p>
            </blockquote>





	You can go hotter than that

**Author's Note:**

> Set during Daken: Dark Wolverine 004 (2011). The fic was written on January 8, 2014.

It may be the years of denial and repression, but Johnny positively _pounces_ on Daken when they close the bedroom door. Daken smirks into the kiss and purposefully keeps his touch slow and gentle, ghosting his palms over Johnny’s arms, down his back. Johnny moans softly, wanting more but trying to control his enthusiasm. His grip on Daken’s arms is tight enough to leave bruises.

Daken is mildly surprised, but pleased overall. Passion can be easily manipulated.

“Sorry, I—“ Johnny is fighting to keep himself from ripping Daken’s new Fantastic Four shirt, one he happily provided, and it shows on his face. “You’re—“

“You’re good, Johnny.” Daken pumps out powerful pheromones, trapping Johnny and his libido. He coyly flutters his eyelashes, puckers his lips just so, and tilts his neck back. It’s like honeyed poison, and Johnny — poor, human Johnny — is all over him with renewed interest.

“Daken—“ Johnny sinks down and bites that long expanse of neck and muscle, hips thrusting against Daken’s own. He can feel Johnny’s arousal through his jeans, heat like fire from his skin.

Daken has to fight not to laugh, exhaling his amusement as a sultry moan instead. Sex comes easily to him, partly because of his mutant power but mostly because of his decades-long training in deception. He uses it as a weapon, same as his claws — elegant. Deadly.

He did not plan on seducing Johnny Storm tonight, but he’s not unhappy it happened. Johnny is a willing and pliant pawn, and sex now will only strengthen his dependence on Daken. Sure, Daken has no intention of taking it further with the man — his plans on leaving tomorrow for Madripoor remain unchanged — but it’s good to reinforce solid ties. Who knows when he might need to use Johnny or the Fantastic Four in the future.

“Daken,” Johnny whispers. “You’re quiet.”

He needs reassurance. “Don’t stop.” Daken’s soft touches turn bruising, clutching at Johnny’s thighs. His coy smile turns fierce, teeth bared. “I like it when you’re rough.”

Johnny smiles self-consciously, a good boy at heart. He can sweet-talk and trash-talk but it’s obvious he’s never had a man before, or if he has, it’s never been intimate enough that they’d ended up in his bed. Daken allows himself a minute of fantasy as he tugs Johnny atop of him, imaging a young and inexperienced Johnny getting a blowjob in an alley, hand cupped over his mouth to keep himself from moaning; Johnny spitting on his palm and secretly jacking some other guy off in a communal shower, his pretty face contorted with pleasure and delightful guilt.

A searing, unexpected heat snaps him back into reality. He only barely manages not to unsheathe his claws at the surprise, a snarl stuck in his throat.

Daken stares at the handprint Johnny has left on his arm, rapidly healing away. “You burned me.”

“Ah, fuck! I’m so sorry—“ Johnny reels back, pulling his wrist close to his chest. “I haven’t done that since I was, like, sixteen. Fuck. Are you okay?”

Unexpected, but not unpleasant. Daken doesn’t want to lose Johnny’s interest, but he likes the guilt he’s caused here, so he pretties up his face in a forgiving gesture and lurches up to kiss Johnny. A slow, reassuring thing, that then intensifies.

“I like a bit of pain,” Daken says honestly, a purr in his throat. “I wasn’t expecting it, but I don’t mind. I like it when you let go, Johnny. Can you do that again?”

Johnny doesn’t seem so sold on the idea, but Daken figures it because he doesn’t actually enjoy hurting people. No matter. With a powerful twist of his hips, Daken has flipped them. He settles on Johnny’s hips and presses down there, smirking.

“You look good below me. I’m going to ride you.”

He makes good on his word, gyrating his hips down. Johnny’s apologies get drowned out by Daken’s pheromones, and his bruising hands busy themselves ripping off Daken’s jeans. Little curdles of smoke follow his fingertips, and Daken is delighted by how well he’s managed to destroy Johnny’s control. Either Johnny is exquisitely susceptible to his pheromones or he’s sufficiently into Daken that this little nudge was enough to shatter him. Both ways end up with Daken winning, so he revels in it.

With some moving about, Daken’s brand new shirt and designer jeans have been discarded to a side, and Johnny’s stripped off his shirt and pants, and they’re separated at the hip only by their boxer-briefs. Johnny’s hands are impossibly hot as they explore the canvas that is Daken’s body, bruised and healing.

“Daken, I—“ Johnny kisses his shoulder, and pauses. Why is he pausing? “You’re leaving.”

Ah, that’s why. “Yes,” Daken says plainly. He not-so-subtly nuzzles Johnny’s neck. “I will be gone by dawn.”

“Where are you going?”

Hm. Daken shifts, and languidly sits on the man’s erection. Daken traces Johnny’s well-sculpted frame with black fingernails. “I’m going off to make peace with myself.”

Johnny looks real heartbroken. It amuses Daken, though he is mildly annoyed that they’ve stopped moving. He leans down, down, and licks Johnny’s bare nipple. He rolls it with his tongue and then lightly bites him. He feels Johnny grow hot again under his touch, and tastes the flavoured ash of his skin.

Johnny surprises Daken by flipping them over again, his face contorted into something that might be anger, might be sadness, but is undoubtedly full of passion. His arms frame Daken in place, his body covering Daken's own. Daken feels a rush of something genuine — he’s being cornered and it feels threatening, and he is definitely aroused — and curls his smirk into something more obviously devious.

“I really like it when you’re rough, Johnny.” He helps Johnny out by lifting his legs, and guiding Johnny’s erection out of its boxer-briefs. It’s warm, stiff, and very much alive. Daken makes it weep with his fingers, rubbing the head against his own. “Make me forget I’m leaving.”

Johnny loses control. He grips Daken’s mohawk in one fist and pushes his head back, diving in for a bruising kiss. Daken moans, genuinely pleased. He’s equally rough when he grips Johnny’s thighs and encourages him to fuck him raw. _Rip_ goes Daken’s underwear and suddenly there’s nothing between them but their own skin, Johnny’s several degrees warmer than human.

Daken curls him in close, getting as much skin contact as he can. “You can go hotter, Johnny.”

Johnny hesitates only once before he allows his palms to smolder. He reaches out and tightly grips Daken’s sides. It’s sweltering in here and Daken growls, twisting and writhing with the burn. “More!” he hisses. “Show me who you fucking are, Johnny.”

A nudge of pheromones and the world is suddenly much brighter, blistering. Daken swallows a howl and grins instead, nearly biting through his tongue. “More,” he insists. “You’re so good, Johnny.”

It’s like fucking a star. Bright, burning, painful. It should not be sexual, but Daken’s body has been molded to take this kind of abuse and enjoy it. To triumph despite any physical hindrance. He cannot be harder.

“Talk to me,” Johnny pleads, hoarse and hot and desperately trying to see through the fire that is his mind high on Daken’s pheromones. “I need to know you’re okay.”

“S’good,” Daken exhales. He has not been rendered speechless yet; it merely takes effort to talk when half his body is covered with third degree burns. “Harder, Johnny. You can go hotter. Make me forget.”

Daken has toed the line between being alive and being nearly dead more times than he can count, and throughout his life pain has been a constant companion. But he cannot help his animalistic howls as Johnny Storm fucks him in a firey frenzy, singeing his hair and blistering his ever-healing skin, inside and out. Perhaps it is because of the pain, but he’s coming far faster than he usually does, though his burnt body produces no sperm. Johnny follows soon after, exhaling smoke and ash and fire. “ _Daken._ ”

The star goes out in stages, until all that’s left is Johnny’s blond-haired blue-eyed doey look, still catching up to what he’s done.

The aftermath could’ve been awkward — the mattress is fire-resistant but not fire-proof, and the room smells of burnt skin and ash — but Daken has had many years of tuning his pheromones to suit the situation, and Johnny is very much still interested in him, so it doesn’t take much nudging to have Johnny's lips on his own again.

“Thank you, Johnny,” Daken praises him, keeping Johnny focused on him. “I liked that very much.”

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” Johnny whispers. “That was—I couldn’t—“

“It was perfect.” Daken pets Johnny's hair and curls into his chest, snuggling into the man’s space. “I’m only sorry for your room.”

Johnny tentatively smiles. “It’s seen worse.” The pheromones are stronger than his present regret. Good.

Although the night is still young, Daken has satisfied his curiosity about fucking fire. He has Johnny suck him off and then puts the boy to bed. Johnny sleeps curled into the burnt mattress like a child, and Daken cannot help but smirk. Because that is what Johnny is to him — a child. A good lay, though, he’ll give him that.

Daken wastes no more time and steals away as silently as he came in, two weapons richer. Johnny was a nice distraction, but now Daken has to focus on stealing a city. He takes a shower before he departs New York though—no sense in smelling like human barbecue all the way to Madripoor.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Daken's such a shit, isn't he? :D I miss this asshole.


End file.
